The Night Strangers - Chris Bohjalian [147]
Emily knew the interlocking circle of vines was a Celtic symbol of friendship: Reseda had told her. It was why she and her girls had picked out this particular pair of earrings for Molly when the three of them and Reseda visited the jewelry store. She was just about to explain this to the girl when Jocelyn took the earring from her daughter and placed it back inside the box. Then she stood, and Emily was struck by just how tall this woman was; there was a reason that Molly was such a big girl. Jocelyn towered over her, and Emily wanted to rise up off the couch, but she was afraid that she would appear defensive or confrontational if she did. And so she remained seated as her hostess handed her the earrings and said firmly, “No. We will not have these in this house. We will not have your … your beliefs … in this house. Go. Go now.”
“They’re just earrings,” Emily said. “They’re Celtic earrings. That’s all.” She looked at her girls, but clearly they understood. Already they were standing up and slinking toward the front door like chastised puppies. And so Emily stood, too.
“I want no part of your group or their symbolism, and I want my daughter to have no part of it, either,” the woman insisted.
“My group? Really, what group am I a part of? I know you don’t mean my law practice,” Emily argued, though she understood precisely what Molly’s mother was driving at. “I’m serious, Jocelyn, tell me: What group?”
The woman put her hands on her hips and was visibly shaking. Then she took her daughter by the hand and pulled her beside her. “You know better than me. You live in the house where one of them lived. You work for John Hardin.”
“I know next to nothing about Tansy Dunmore. And most of what I know about John Hardin begins and ends with his legal expertise.”
“There are two kinds of people in Bethel. And someday your kind will go too far. Frankly, I think you already have.”
“My kind? Jocelyn, look, I am—”
“Fine,” the woman said, interrupting her. “I believe you. There’s no group. None. There’s no witchcraft and there’s no weird religion. Now, Molly and I have some things to do to get ready for … Well, we just have some things to do,” she said, and Emily understood that Jocelyn was not going to discuss this any further. Clearly the woman was afraid that she had said too much. And so Emily took the girls, who looked no less sheepish as they stood by the front door pulling on their boots, and left the Francoeur house with the little box of earrings in her hand.
Reseda stared up at the looming Victorian from the seat of her car, watching the afternoon sun on the western windows. She couldn’t decide whether the dead would have grown so invasive had the captain remained in West Chester. Probably they would have, but he had been more isolated here—more separated from friends and neighbors and a support group of other pilots—and that seclusion, more than this house, was what may have given the spirits such access. Such command. There was also the possibility that whatever Anise was feeding Chip was exacerbating their control and making their presence more disturbing. But Reseda would never know for sure. Finally she heard another vehicle rumbling up the driveway. She looked into the rearview mirror and saw Emily’s station wagon approaching. A moment later, Emily coasted past, waving, and came to a stop before one of the carriage barn’s two bays. She had the twins with her.
“Coming or going?” Emily asked, as Reseda climbed from her own car.
“Coming,” she answered.
“Does Chip know you’re here?”
“I don’t think so. I just arrived.”
“Well, let’s go inside,” Emily said, and together they started up the front walkway.
“You’re not returning from something pleasant like a dance class or a music lesson, are you?” Reseda asked the twins.
Garnet shook her head no and